We’re intercepted by a very Landry on the way to find Penelope. “Excuse, me. Charlotte? I just need a moment of your time.” She reaches out and slaps a badge on my chest that says, “HELLO my name is Charlotte.” My hand flies to my breast. I feel violated.
Jane crosses her arms and tilts her head. I can already tell she doesn’t like Landry. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m your point of contact now, per Miranda.” She smiles a knowing smile. “I suppose I should really say per Henry.” She brightens up when she says his name. “He’s the one who gave me the promotion, in reality, even though she had to approve it.” She tosses her hair back over one shoulder. “You’re in capable hands. I wanted to tell you that personally.” She leans in, whispering. “Henry briefed me that you’re a little unstable.”
Jane puffs out her chest. “Henry, her old boyfriend, said that?”
“Old boyfriend?” A shadow crosses Landry’s face. “Henry didn’t tell me you were together.” She composes herself. “It must have slipped his mind.” A sly smirk appears at the corner of her mouth. “We haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately.”
“Yeah, well you look like you could use a little more.” She circles her own eye with her finger, and whispers, “Dark circles.”
Landry scowls.
“Anyway,” Jane says, linking her arm through mine. “It’s a lie. She’s not unstable. She’s just very emotional.”
“Jane!” I protest.
“In a good way.”
“I’m sure Henry didn’t mean anything by it,” Landry says in a light voice. “You know Henry, ever taking care of the little people around him. I so admire him for that.”
“Yeah, well, I gotta go admire a glass of Champagne,” Jane says, pulling me away. “Maybe I’ll admire two after that conversation,” she tells me out of the side of her mouth.
“Jane,” calls a young woman sitting at one of the tables. “Have you eaten? I’ve never had such great food in my life. Her plate was an eclectic mix of food from all over the world, with ultra-high-end cheffy morsels thrown in for good measure. I look around to see where it’s all coming from. In addition to waiters passing trays, there’s now a long buffet table set up with stacks of the latkes, trays of lasagna, the rest of my baked goods, pans of curried chick peas in sauce, and more. Standing at the end of the line, scooping beans and rice onto his plate, is Vijay.
“There she is! My girlfriend and I came to say hello to Hudson. When I told my mother about this idea for getting your dog back, she asked me to drive by our family house out in Queens. I told her how you got me the warm-up comic gig on The Today Show, and she wanted to show her gratitude. She sent four trays of food…palak paneer, channa masala, and lots more. It’s a good thing you decided to have a party! Her food alone was enough for an army.”
“You got a gig doing the pre-show warm-up? That’s amazing, Vijay. You deserve it.”
“Wait! You didn’t read my email?” He sets his plate aside and throws his arms around me. “I didn’t just get the gig doing warm-ups, the producer liked my story about being a cab-driving doctor so much, I’m going to be featured on a segment called ‘Ordinary Folks Who Follow Their Dreams.’ I can never thank you enough. Do you have any idea what kind of exposure something like that can get a person?”
I gesture to the room. “I think I have a pretty fair idea.”
Vijay points, “Aw, look at those short, fat little dogs. So cute.”
Jane says, “The Corgis? They’re not fat,” she coos protectively, “they’re just big-boned.”
I swing around to see Skip. He’s hand-feeding Dylan and Connor from his plate. I approach the table, and give the dogs pats on the head. They’re too busy scarfing down jumbo shrimp to pay me much attention. “Oh, hey Charlotte. I was looking for you,” Skip says. The webmaster for the Corgi Club website called me to tell me there was a big public party for Hudson. Dylan and Connor and I wanted to be here for you, to help pass the time while you wait. We have his photo up on the site, you know. On the way out, we ran into Irv and Frieda, so I brought them, too. I don’t think you’ve all formally met.”
We shake hands all around, and they thank me for always leaving food at their door. In appreciation, they tell me, they had their son send over several cases of the craft beer he makes in Brooklyn. Half the people at their long table are slugging back longnecks, and singing along to the harmonious holiday tunes the chorus guys were belting out. “Thank you,” I tell them. “I’m glad you’re all here. Will you excuse me for a minute?”
I’m overwhelmed. I push my way through the crowd, not knowing exactly where I’m going. I check my watch. The store is officially closed. When I get to the first floor, I see two bouncers sitting on stools by the far west 34th Street entrance. A well dressed, pretty woman, and a camera guy walk up, and are waved in. I keep walking, wondering if I’m going to be allowed throughout the store. I know there’s a lounge in the restroom in the back of the kids’ section, near the McDonald’s. I just need to sit down by myself for a minute or two, to be alone. I head to the elevator and hit the button for the 7th floor.
It’s odd being in the huge department store with no shoppers around, lights dim, halls quiet. I can’t ever recall being in a Macy’s elevator without pressing shoulder-to-shoulder with at least ten strangers. I take a deep breath in, enjoying the peace. I watch the numbers on the floors light up, consecutively. 5, 6, 7.
On seven, the door doesn’t open. I buzz right past it, and the door opens on 8. It looks like I pushed the button, but my head is practically spinning from all of the activity of the evening. I walk out, and head left. The corporate offices and employee lounge are on this floor. That would be as good a place as any to rest by myself for awhile. The regular showroom lights are soft, with most of the illumination coming from the display cases and mannequin spotlights. I see colored lights in the distance. Santa Land. Surely Macy’s planned a bathroom in the section where thousands and thousands of kids wait in line each year to see Santa.
I head in that direction, taking in the beauty of the life-sized Christmas-themed circus scene. It’s amazing to walk through and gaze at the various scenes with a wholly unobstructed view. I hear something fall, and I freeze. It must be the night watchmen. I listen hard. Maybe it’s just something settling, like in an old house. I read on one of the plaques outside that the store’s been here since 1902.
I walk past the scene of a family opening presents on Christmas morning. A man and a woman are smiling in their bathrobes. Seated on the floor, under the decorated tree is a toddler in her pajamas, and a spunky dog sniffing a wrapped gift with his nose down, and his tail up. The mom is smiling, holding a gift up to her ear. The man has glasses.
I think about Henry, and how he looked so handsome and cozy in his terrycloth robe from the Waldorf, and I’m sad. For a short while, I thought I might have what the family in the diorama before me has. I had even let myself think I could have it with Henry. That ship has sailed, Charlotte, I tell myself walking on past a scene in which elves and aliens compare toys, and another featuring a schoolroom filled with gingerbread children decorating the tree.
When I continue down the hall, there it is. Santa’s big chair. The only light comes from the gleam of the Christmas tree lights all around the grotto. I open the gate, and let myself in. I climb the steps, and take a seat. I close my eyes, thinking about all of the people downstairs and how awful it’ll be to send them all home if no one brings Hudson back to me. I breathe, listening to the silence. For a moment, I almost forget where I am.
“Hello, Charlotte,” says a deep friendly. I open my eyes.
Standing all the way across the room is an old man with a white beard. He’s wearing jeans and a checkered shirt, and work boots. I squint to see him better. Could it be the man whose lap I sat on in this very chair?
“How did you know my name?” I ask. I glance down to see my nametag. “Oh, silly me. Of course.” Could he have read it from way back there?
I could have sworn he was wearing glasses before. “Your vision must be very good,” I say.
“There isn’t much I can’t see,” he tells me with a wink.
*****
“There’s your ride,” Chris says as the elevator doors open to carry me back down to the party. “The important thing to remember is that you are not alone.” He smoothes his beard thoughtfully. “There’s a lot of power in love.”
I still can’t believe I sat with a complete stranger for half an hour, telling him the whole story about Hudson. It was a nice break from all the energy of the party, but like he said to me, it’s time to get back to all of those friends, and strangers, who came to support me. “Whatever is supposed to happen, will.”
I hold the door with my hand. “Are you sure you won’t come downstairs for awhile? Or maybe we can sit and talk a little more.” The truth is, I’m scared. If I go down there, and Hudson hasn’t been returned, I’m going to have to send everyone away. This was the last chance. Tomorrow, I’ll have to start my new life resigned to the fact Hudson won’t be coming home.
He shakes his head. “I have to catch a flight.” He waves as the doors close.
I check my watch on the way down. It’s later than I thought, nearly midnight. When the doors open, I’m surprised to find the gathering in full swing. Vijay is up on the dais, microphone in hand, “…and THAT’S where I found the stethoscope!” A huge wave of laughter sweeps the crowd. “Thank you very much, I am Vijay Singh. I host a show every Tuesday at 10 at The Broadway Comedy Club. Come out and see me!”
I look around, hoping that maybe Hudson was brought back while I was gone. I catch Jane’s eye, and raise my eyebrows. She shakes her head no, and mouths, “Sorry.”
As the applause is dying down, he spots me. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says to the crowd, “please give it up for Miss Charlotte Bell.” The clapping picks up. I have no choice but to take the stage. To my surprise, I’m not scared. Vijay is smiling as he hands me the mic, and when I turn to look at the crowd, I see Jane and Penelope, Mrs. Rabinowitz, Skip, Aunt Miranda and even James, along with so many other people who have proven they’re in my corner. I’ll never have to face tough times again if I don’t want to.
“Hi everyone,” I say.
“Hi Charlotte,” they all boom back, and there is a collective laugh. I see Manuel holding Popcorn upright in his lap, waving his little paw at me.
“I want to say thank you to each and every one of you for the love and support you’ve shown for Hudson and me. I’ve never felt this kind of friendship, and I know if Hudson were here now, he’d love every minute of this. I’m really happy that everyone has gotten to have fun, and celebrate. I know you all want what I want: To see Hudson back. It’s getting late. I want to stay positive, but eventually we’re going to have to call it a night. Yesterday, the idea of moving on without Hudson was unthinkable. First and foremost, I couldn’t bear the idea that he might not be safe and cared for. I’m honestly not worried about that anymore. As much as it would break my heart not to have Hudson in my life, I am comforted by the fact that I absolutely believe, one hundred percent, that someone out there who is as kind as all of you is taking excellent care of him. Thanks, friends, for proving to me that the world is good.”
Everyone claps as I step off the dais. Vijay, who knows how to handle an audience, takes the mic from my hand, and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our wonderful singers from The Gay Men’s Chorus of New York City.” Without missing a beat, they step up onto the stage and launch into a harmonious Last Christmas.
Aunt Miranda walks up to me and hands me a glass of Champagne. She gives me an awkward side-hug that’s meant to be a spirit-lifter. She’s trying, even if she’s not quite there yet. “It’s not over till it’s over, darling,” she says. “Hudson might show up yet. The night is still young.”
“There’s always a chance, and I’m really hoping that I get my boy back. But I have to be a grown-up. I squeeze her back. “Hudson came into my life when I needed him. He changed me. Maybe that was the gift, and I have to appreciate that I had him in my life at all. What’s that expression? It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?”
“Speaking of that, darling, what happened with you and Henry?”
“Like I said, it’s better to have loved and lost.” My heart constricts at the sound of my own words. I love Henry. Well, loved him, I guess. “Why are you asking me that? I thought you wanted me to get back together with James and rule a food empire as his queen.”
“It’s just that Henry hasn’t been well, not since he left The Today Show Studios. His clothes are rumpled, he walks around in a fog, and he has great black circles beneath his eyes.”
“So does Landry. I guess all the late-night hanky-panky is wearing them both out.”
“Pfft!” Miranda dismisses the idea. “Not bloody likely! She’s been working round the clock, picking up his slack, because he’s been useless. She’s barely left the office, and when she has, I’ve had her on call.”
“Oh, well. It’s none of my business.”
“Isn’t it? Why do you reckon he’s in such a state, then?”
“I don’t know. Flu?”
“Could it be that you changed Henry the way Hudson changed you?”
I stiffen. I heard it with my own ears. Henry was just doing his job. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I’d say Henry might have changed you. The Charlotte I knew a week ago would never have run all over New York City, making friends with strangers and getting people on her team. And she certainly wouldn’t have made an eloquent speech like that in front of a whole room. But have it your way, darling. I’ll just leave you with one thought. She turns and looks me in the eyes. “I had a man once who looked at me the way Henry looked at you. Words were said, feelings were hurt, and there was a standoff. I had my pride, or so I thought. In the end, I won.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “But I didn’t really, darling. I may know about the Art of War, but I wish I’d learned about the art of love. My bed is awfully cold at night.” With that, she gives my shoulder a squeeze, and disappears into the kitchen.
Suddenly, I’m very tired. I look around the room, at my friends laughing and chatting with the strangers who came to sit vigil with us. This is the end, I think with resignation. My last, best hope is gone. There’s no point in stopping the party. I want to go around and hug each and every one of them, and tell them a personal goodbye. I look around at their happy faces, and decide against it. They would feel the need to comfort me about Hudson not showing up. I don’t want to put them on the spot. Might as well let them enjoy the fun for now. I sneak up the escalator, careful to avoid notice. I’ll grab a cab, I think. I’m looking forward to falling into bed, and sinking into oblivion. I’ll deal with the fallout of not getting Hudson back in the morning. I’ve got to start afresh sometime, but it doesn’t have to be now.
When I get to the main floor, I see that the snow is coming down hard. It’s sticking, and a thick, white rug covers 34th Street. There’s little traffic, and what’s there is moving slowly. I’m so exhausted, I nearly walk out past the one remaining bouncer without my coat and bag. It seems like days ago that I was up in the office drinking coffee with Penelope and Jane. At the elevator bank, I push in Floor 8. When I get out, I head toward the lounge, briskly walking through Santa Land, past the scenes and dioramas.
I hear a man’s voice, and I stop. “Chris?” I call, even though I know it’s not him; he left ages ago. “Hello?” I try again, hoping it’s a night guard. I hurry through Santa Land, to the dark corridor where the corporate offices and lounge are. I’m nervous. I don’t like being alone up here at what must be midnight by now.
“Hello?” calls out a rich voice with an English accent. “Who’s there?”
It’s Henry. Bubbles rise in my heart. Until I heard his voice, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to see him. I think about what Aunt Miranda said about winning. I thi
nk about what Chris said about how what is supposed to happen will. “Henry!” I find myself shouting. I run right into the darkness. “Henry, it’s Charlotte. Wait for me. I’m coming!”
I round the corner to see Henry sitting in a chair, holding my coat against his face. His mouth is hanging open. He looks disoriented.
“Henry. Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not.”
My elation shifts to embarrassment. He doesn’t know what to say to me. He doesn’t want to see me.
“Never mind,” I say, trying to let him off the hook. “I was just leaving.” I reach for my coat, but he holds it firmly, and stands up. The rapture he seemed to be in is broken.
“Charlotte,” he says to me very seriously. “I wasn’t planning to come. There was a message. A man said it was urgent. You just…”
“Henry?”
Just then, I hear skittering on the linoleum floor, and turn around. Hudson slides around the corner, jumps onto the chair, and starts dancing on his back legs.
“Hudson!” I scream. I bend down and gather my wiggling, joyful dog to my chest. He’s whining and moaning, and I’m crying and kissing his furry snout.
“Henry!” I shout through my tears. “You brought Hudson!”
“No, I think Hudson brought me.” He still looks dazed. “The man said I needed to meet him in the corporate office to sign an insurance waiver to cover the early pop-up launch. There’s no one here. I saw your coat, and…”
I’m rocking Hudson in my arms. “And?”
“And I was smelling it,” he says, smiling. “I sat in that chair, and I was inhaling your scent, eyes closed, because the coat belongs to you.” His eyes shine. “Because I have missed you so much. And then I felt a scratching on my leg.” He laughs an unbridled laugh. “I wanted that dog to be Hudson so badly. But you see, we’ve never actually met. Please tell me that’s him.”
“It’s him. It most certainly is.” I squeeze my little dog tight. “Hudson, meet Henry. He’s the man I’m in love with.”
A Miracle at Macy's Page 30
